


Just Like Heaven

by kayladie, smoochfestmod



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 09:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1813519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayladie/pseuds/kayladie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoochfestmod/pseuds/smoochfestmod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter is trying to recover from a terrible loss. When he moves into a lovely little cottage, he never expected to be living with a ghost. Especially not one who only wants him out!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> This submission is part of HD Smoochfest on Livejournal. The theme this year is Media Remix, which invited participants to "remix" the story from a Book, Movie, or Television Show. The author/artist will be revealed at the end of the fest.
> 
> This was created for Prompt Number: M81  
> Original Work Name: Just Like Heaven
> 
> Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Author's Notes: Thank you to the mods for their extreeeeme patience with me and this story! I appreciate it so much. I tried to stick as close to the movie's themes as possible while still making it a Harry/ Draco story and not just a carbon copy, so I hope this fulfills the prompter's wishes.

The tiny hand clinging to hers pulled a little, an obvious test to see if it could break free. Narcissa Malfoy tightened her grip, just a bit, nowhere near enough to be painful, but firm enough that her son would realize he wasn't going to be able to go pick those flowers that had caught his eye. Narcissa shivered and pulled the hood of her cloak over her head with her other hand. She glanced down at Draco, whose gaze was directed longingly at the bright flowers placed on one of the other graves.  
  
The priest's voice droning on drew her attention back to her husband's funeral. There were no flowers for his grave, and no other mourners save herself and his son. It had only been a hefty bribe to the right people that had allowed Lucius to be interred in this cemetery at all. Narcissa felt a twinge of guilt at her relief in her husband's death. She had loved him once, or she had at least been content with their marriage anyway. It had all begun to change when he'd fallen in with that madman. Lucius wasn't the man she married anymore, not after he'd taken that hideous mark on his forearm.  
  
She'd seen the way the future was going to go…Lucius' insanity would have been forced upon her son, her precious Draco. Narcissa had lain awake many a night worrying about the future for her child and the terrible things he would no doubt be forced to do. Or worse, what if he were like Lucius and actually enjoyed the acts of depravity demanded by the Dark Lord as proof of loyalty. No, she could not have borne that.  
  
The vague thoughts of rebellion that had not yet formed into any sort of viable plan had abruptly become unnecessary when Lucius had gotten himself killed in an attempt at revenge for his Master's untimely death. Narcissa's lips curved into a small smile as she thought of little Harry Potter, and how she was as grateful to him as the rest of Wizarding society. Even now, though it had been nearly two weeks since the Dark Lord's demise, she could still hear the faint sounds of celebration beneath the priest's eulogy.  
  
Finally, the rites were completed and Narcissa turned to go, tugging gently on Draco's hand to get him moving. He bumped into her as she stopped short upon seeing the man waiting for her by the gate.  
  
"Mummy, my nose," he whined as he rubbed at the appendage which had made sharp contact with her hip.  
  
"You're fine, darling," she said in a distracted tone, her stare locked on Severus Snape.  
  
He had started towards her once she'd seen him and now he was staring at her as hard as she was at him. Unwittingly, her gaze flickered down to where she knew a mark identical to her husband's was burned onto his arm, though it was faded with the Dark Lord's death. Perhaps it was just a woman's intuition, but Narcissa had questioned whether Severus was as loyal to the Dark Lord as he'd claimed to be. There was just something about his demeanor, which she'd never been able to put her finger on.  
  
She didn't trust him of course, certainly not enough to let him know of her own doubts and fledgling plans to flee. But she must have been right about some of it, because Severus was here rather than in Azkaban with the rest of the Death Eaters.  
  
"Narcissa," he said simply.  
  
"Severus," she replied.  
  
"I am sorry for your loss."  
  
"Thank you." They stared in silence for another moment, each feeling the other out to see what their true purpose was.  
  
"What are your plans?" he asked.  
  
"I haven't really made any. Everything has been so hectic, as you know. I've hardly had time to think."  
  
"Yes, hectic," he agreed. "I do wonder if you have considered moving away from England? Things can't have been easy for you, what with Lucius' activities before his passing."  
  
Narcissa narrowed her eyes as she mulled over his words. Was he trying to give her some sort of warning? And if so, was it because he was on her side, or against her? "As I said, I have made no plans as of yet. Now, if you will excuse me, Severus, I must get Draco home and out of this chill."  
  
As she made to sweep past him, Severus took her by the arm, stopping her in her tracks. She gasped and glared at him fiercely for his audacity.  
  
"How dare you-"  
  
"Narcissa, you must know that he is not really gone," he said, his voice no more than a hiss, and she knew he wasn't talking about Lucius. "He did things, rituals, to prepare himself for events such as these."  
  
She was speechless, inwardly floundering with what she should say. Which side was Severus truly loyal to, other than his own side obviously. And what could she say to get herself and her son away and to safety? Before she could make a decision, Severus spoke more bluntly than any Slytherin had a right to.  
  
"I was not with him or his ideals by the end. Perhaps it started that way, as it did with you, but then I saw the truth of things, how he really was. I work with Dumbledore and I would see you and my godson safe," he said with a glance down at the curious toddler watching his mum and godfather talk.  
  
Narcissa yanked her arm out of his grasp, her anger sparking at Severus' words. "With Dumbledore? Or are you his little pet on a leash? I am fully capable of taking care of myself and Draco without any help from either you or Dumbledore," she said, spitting the Headmaster's name with venom. Still, the thought of that monster somehow returning filled her with fear.  
  
Severus took a step back and held his hands up as if in apology for his boldness. It was a gesture as false as his condolences for her husband's death. "I merely wished to be of some assistance to you in your hour of need."  
  
"It is not needed, I can assure you," she snapped. While he might not be as vicious as the Dark Lord, Narcissa knew that Albus Dumbledore was just as controlling, and she wanted no part of that for Draco. Unwilling to let Severus know just how much he had shaken her, she threw out a remark that she knew would cut him to the bone. "You've offered your condolences for Lucius' passing, but I suppose I must offer my own to you. I heard that Lily Evans Potter was killed the night the Boy Who Lived vanquished the Dark Lord. You thought of her rather fondly, did you not?"  
  
Severus' face went pale and he froze so still, she thought for an instant he'd been hit with a spell. Satisfied that he wouldn’t stop her this time, she said, "Good day, Severus." She swung Draco up into her arms and marched past him.  
  
Her steps increased in speed just a hair below actual jogging as she headed to the gate. She held Draco to her, a bit too tightly as he mumbled in protest and squirmed in her arms. Narcissa didn't let up, though, and knew Severus had been right about one thing. She needed to get out of England as soon as possible.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
It was a critical juncture in the process of the potion that Draco had been working on for months now. Twenty more seconds and he would need to add the valerian and hopefully this would be a new and improved version of a calming draught. He'd started tinkering with it to try and reduce the addictive nature of the potion.  
  
He reached for the valerian as he was softly counting down, and faltered when it wasn't there.  
  
Draco let out a sharp yell of frustration and shouted at his assistant. "Andrew, the valerian! I need it right now!"  
  
There was no response to his demand and Draco watched helplessly as his potion began to bubble and emit black smoke. He threw a quick shielding charm over the cauldron as it boiled over and ruined the work of the last several days.  
  
"Andrew!" he shouted again as he turned around. "Did you not hear me?!"  
  
His useless assistant turned from the station where he was chopping ingredients, one of the few tasks that Draco actually trusted him with, and said, "You're speaking in French again, Mr. Malfoy. I can't understand what you're saying."  
  
Draco somehow stifled a cry of pure rage and said, very careful to keep his tone moderate and in English, "Where is the valerian that I placed on my station this morning?"  
  
Andrew gazed at him stupidly. "You told me to clean everything off the counters this morning."  
  
"No. No, I told you to clean off your counter this morning, as it somewhat resembles the aftermath of a herd of rampaging nifflers. You should know by this point, having worked for me for five weeks now, to leave my station alone."  
  
"You didn't say not to touch your station."  
  
If it was possible for a person to spontaneously combust, Draco thought he might have done so right then and there. He tried to control his emotions, as experience had taught him there was nothing to be gained from yelling at Andrew. The idiot steadfastly refused to ever 'get it'. In utter frustration, Draco dismissed him for the day, and then had to keep himself from hexing the moron's back as he actually grinned and walked out of the lab whistling, apparently pleased at his early day off from work.  
  
Draco sighed and banished the shielding charm. He glared down at his ruined work and fumed at the thought of how far behind this would put him. He didn't have the luxury of time for mishaps like this.  
  
"Ooh, that looks nasty, Malfoy. Having a bit of trouble then?"  
  
His eyes closed briefly in disgust, because of course, Veronica Smethly would never miss an opportunity to rub his nose in it. He straightened and turned around, making certain to give her a big smile as he did so.  
  
"Nothing I can't handle, Smethly. After all, I'm sure Master Harkins wants someone who knows how to deal with all kinds of setbacks, minor such as this one, or worse, in the position of Senior Potions Apprentice."  
  
"I hope that's not the potion you were intending to use in next week's presentation. Oh, but wait! I do hope that's the one, because I'm certain to get the position if that's the case," she said with a smirk.  
  
Draco managed to refrain from punching her in the nose by reminding himself that he was a gentleman and therefore, never resorted to violence. Even when it would really make him feel better.  
  
"While I appreciate your desire to somehow elevate yourself to my level, it's never going to happen. The Senior Potions Apprentice position is mine to accept or refuse. And I certainly don't intend to refuse when it's offered to me."  
  
Veronica sniffed in disdain and tossed her head, making her dark hair flip in a move she'd obviously practiced. "Whatever, Malfoy. If you think they're going to give such a prestigious position to the son of a Death Eater, you've lost your senses."  
  
She flounced away before Draco could think of a suitably cutting reply. He turned and vanished the ruined potion in a fit of frustration. It was maddening how events from more than twenty years ago were still held against him. His mother had warned him about returning to England, and that he might face old prejudices, but Draco could not resist the opportunity to work under the best Potions Master in Europe.  
  
Charles Harkins was absolutely brilliant, and Draco had danced a little gleeful dance when his application to apprentice under the man had been accepted five years ago. Only twenty-seven at the time, Draco was the youngest apprentice Harkins had ever taken on. There'd been some grumbling among the other potions apprentices, partly because he'd attended Beauxbatons, and traditionally, St. Mungo's hired from Hogwarts, but Draco had been determined to pursue his dream.  
  
Eventually, his work ethic and his potions skills had, if not won most of them over, at least earned their tolerance. Except for Veronica Smethly. She was fifteen years older than Draco and had been with Harkins the longest of all of them. She had been, quite frankly, a bit of a teacher's pet, until Draco had come along and usurped Harkins' favor. She was also the only one of his coworkers who continued to harp on Draco's deceased father having been a Death Eater.  
  
Outside of St. Mungo's, Draco sometimes had to deal with vicious stares and angry words, but within the hospital, he liked to think that he had proven himself worthy. Only rarely did he even have to face an angry patient, as most of his work was done inside his potions lab, far away from the patients themselves.  
  
He spent another few hours half-heartedly fiddling with his notes on the calming potion, but Draco knew that his concentration was too wrecked to get anything productive done. Casting a quick Tempus charm, he saw that it was almost eight pm. He was much more likely to be successful with a new trial in the morning with a fresh start. Maybe he could get rid of Andrew early enough that the idiot wouldn’t throw his game completely off as he had done today.  
  
He certainly would never admit it if pressed, or even if held at wandpoint by a serial killer, but he was concerned about his presentation for Master Harkins next week. He wasn't as far along as he would like in his experimentation, and time was quickly running out. Draco had a back-up potion, one that he knew backwards and forwards, that he could present if forced to, but it wasn't nearly as impressive as the work he was hoping for with the calming potion.  
  
With a sigh, he secured the lab and started down the hallway towards the lifts. His steps faltered as he saw Veronica waiting in front of the lifts as she talked with one of the Healers. Draco grimaced, not really in the mood for another confrontation with her today, and was grateful that he'd managed to duck back around the corner before she saw him.  
  
"The stairs it is, then. Could use the exercise, really. I need to cut back on the Honeydukes," he muttered as he slipped through the door into the stairwell. His lab was on the fourth floor of St. Mungo's, so at least he wouldn't have to go the entire depth of the hospital. Unfortunately, his luck really wasn't holding today, as he'd only made it one floor down when he was stopped by an orderly.  
  
"Sorry, mate, can't go any further this way. Some idiot brought in this weird spider that can multiply itself. They're all over the second floor and Healer Watkins told me not to let anyone pass."  
  
"But I don’t want to go on the second floor. I want to go past it and down to the ground floor so I can leave," Draco protested.  
  
"Something wrong with the lifts?"  
  
"You know what, never mind." There was no limit to the amount of stupidity he was going to have to put up with today, it seemed. Perhaps if he exited the stairs onto the third floor, he would miss Veronica, as surely she had already gotten on the lift and gone down.  
  
He had barely gotten a dozen steps up the hall when a shout caught his attention.  
  
"Hey! You there!"  
  
Draco wasn't sure what made him turn around, what made him certain that the stranger was calling out to him, but somehow, he knew. The man he saw was dressed in clothes just this side of ragged, and his face looked as though better days were years in the past.  
  
"I know you. You're a Malfoy."  
  
His surname was spat out with equal amounts disgust and disbelief, as if he couldn’t fathom what a Malfoy was doing walking around in polite society. Draco's mother had taught him better than to engage with such people. He barely spared the man a glance before turning away and heading towards the lifts once more.  
  
"Your father killed my sister, you little bastard!" the man shouted and the next thing Draco knew, a spell was blasting the wall just above his head.  
  
Draco screamed and scrambled for cover. There were a few potted plants further up the corridor and he nearly tripped over his own feet in trying to get there. He looked around desperately for some help, but the few other people in the hallway were diving for shelter just as much as he was. Belatedly, Draco groped for his wand, which was tucked carelessly in his back pocket.  
  
By the time he'd gotten it into his hand and half-turned, the man was practically on top of him. Draco could barely think, much less come up with a defensive spell.  
  
"For my sister!" the man shouted and sent a spell straight at Draco's chest. The pain was unimaginable, but it only lasted a few seconds, before his entire world went dark.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Harry slunk further down into his chair, determined to ignore the chiming of the Floo. It was certain to be Hermione again, bugging him about 'moving on'. Harry would move on when he was damned good and ready. And he simply wasn't ready yet.  
  
He sighed as he heard the tell-tale whoosh of her coming through. She was persistent, he'd give her that much. Harry closed his eyes, held his breath and slid even lower in his chair. Perhaps if he was very quiet, she wouldn't know he was there.  
  
"Oh, Harry."  
  
He cracked one eye open to see her staring down at him in pity, and not a little disgust. He let go of the breath he'd been holding with a hiss and was viciously pleased when she gave a little shiver. Ron and Hermione didn't like to remember that he could still speak Parseltongue. Okay, maybe the wrinkle of disapproval on her nose was because he hadn't bathed or cleaned the house in a couple of weeks, but Harry couldn't find the energy to do either of those things.  
  
"Harry, you have got to get out of this house," Hermione stated emphatically as she half-heartedly pushed a few piles of rubbish aside on the sofa so she could sit down.  
  
"I'm not ready to go back to work yet," he said.  
  
"I'm not even talking about going back to work. You just need to get out of this house. Grimmauld Place has never been good for you and it's even worse now. I've a friend who's just started to get into real estate and she could help you find something. Just getting out of this depressing place is bound to help you feel better."  
  
Harry attempted to ignore her and let her know what he thought of that suggestion at the same time by closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the chair.  
  
"Michael wouldn't want you to-"  
  
"Don't presume to tell me what Michael would or wouldn't want!" Harry shouted. His whole body tensed as he half rose from the chair, his hands grasping the armrests in a death grip.  
  
Hermione just smiled at him sadly. "There's the Harry I've been missing for the last year," she said softly.  
  
Just like that, Harry's sudden burst of energy evaporated and he collapsed back down into the chair. It wasn't fair that Hermione could manipulate him so easily. Then again, it wasn't fair that Harry's lover had been taken from him far too early. Michael had been one of the most amazing people Harry had ever known, and to lose him so suddenly to a stupid accident was decidedly unfair.  
  
He covered his eyes with one hand and sighed in resignation. "Are you ever going to leave me alone to wallow in my despair?"  
  
There was a soft kiss to the top of his head and Hermione whispered into his ear as she wrapped her arms around him. "I will never leave you alone, Harry. Trolls, basilisks, werewolves, Death Eaters, giant snakes, and Voldemort himself couldn’t scare me away. Getting you through this terrible time is not going to make me go away either."  
  
Her recitation of their school year trials brought a reluctant smile to Harry's face. She really was the brightest witch of their age, not to mention the most stubborn.  
  
"Fine. Give your friend a call and let's see what she can do." It might be good for him to get away from Grimmauld; it never had seemed like home, not really. He'd never truly felt comfortable here since Sirius died, but if there was one trait he shared with Hermione, it was stubbornness.  
  
Three days later, Harry called Hermione on her mobile. The phones were the latest product of the Muggle-Wizard Liaison Department, a newly created faction of the Ministry after the war, of which Hermione was the Head. Sometimes it was good to have friends in high places, as Harry had gotten one of the first models available to the Wizarding world.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Lavender Brown, Hermione? Really?" Harry said, trying to keep his voice low as he glanced over his shoulder to see where his 'real estate agent' was.  
  
"She's had some very high profile clients that have been very happy with her work. Give her a chance."  
  
"So far she's shown me an ultra-modern condo that I was afraid to touch anything in, a flat so tiny I could touch both walls in the living room at the same time, and a freaking castle. A castle, Hermione!"  
  
"Keep an open mind, that's all I'm going to say on the subject. Now I'm late for a meeting so I really have to run. Call me when you find your perfect place." She made a kissing noise at him and then disconnected. Harry pulled the phone away from his ear to stare at it in disbelief for a moment.  
  
"There you are, Harry! I thought you'd gone and run off on me!"  
  
Harry forced a smile onto his face as he turned to face his old schoolmate. "No, not running off. Just had to take a call." He held up the phone and wiggled it before shoving it into the back pocket of his jeans.  
  
"Oh, you've got one of the new mobiles! I'm totally planning on getting one myself soon." She gave Harry a great big beaming smile, which he returned rather weakly.  
  
"Listen, Lavender, I appreciate what you've tried to do for me today, but…" Harry trailed off, not sure how to say politely that he thought she was a complete nutter and had no idea what he would want in a home.  
  
"Please just let me show you one more place, Harry. I held it back because it's not for sale, just for rent, but it's a lovely little cottage that I think would suit you wonderfully."  
  
Well, what could one more place hurt? Reluctantly, Harry nodded and they linked arms so she could Side-Along him to the new location.  
  
Upon seeing the cottage, Harry wondered if Lavender wasn't a bit more cunning than a Gryffindor should be, as it seemed she'd showed him terrible choices so he would be even more impressed with this home…which was absolutely perfect.  
  
The living room was spacious, with one wall having a huge bay window that would let in the morning light. One wall was equipped with a built-in bookcase, where Harry could easily store most of the books he'd managed to collect in his career as an Auror. The kitchen was warm and inviting and made him feel instantly at home, with a large island in the center. The bedrooms, all three of them, were the perfect size. The master bedroom had a large attached bathroom with a deep tub that Harry could picture himself relaxing in easily.  
  
If he wasn't already in love, Harry then took a look out the window into the back yard. "Is that a garden?"  
  
By rights, Harry should have hated gardening, what with all the yard work he was forced to do for the Dursleys, but he had actually been proud of some of the work he'd done in the yard of Number 4 Privet Drive. It was somewhat freeing, to be able to lose yourself in the soil, and make things come to life. He had tried to wrangle the gardens at Grimmauld, but they were resistant because of the Dark Magic that permeated the very atmosphere of the ancient Black family home.  
  
But this place…Harry could work with this garden. Someone had obviously already loved it well. Or they had started to anyway. This was a young garden, one in which someone was still trying to figure out the spirit of it. There was a path that started on one side and curved in a graceful arc around the back of the yard to come back to the front. There were patches of colorful flowers here and there, but also places where there was only dirt, as though the owner hadn't had time to plant everything he or she wanted to.  
  
Harry found himself following the path, trying to picture what the original owner was trying to say with the garden. He stopped at one patch that was more organized than the flowers and stooped down to take a closer look. It was filled with potions ingredients, and Harry tilted his head as he took in the carefully placed rows of plants. He recognized Nightshade and Knotgrass, but most of the others he'd have to look up. The potions plot was looking a bit neglected, as though someone hadn't tended to it in a while.  
  
Harry stood back up and glanced around at the rest of the garden, which now that he looked closer, showed the same beginnings of lack of care. He had the sudden, crazy thought that this whole place, the house and the gardens, were just waiting for someone to come along and take care of them.  
  
"I'll take it," he said, to Lavender's absolute delight. He was then able to find out a little about the house's history, as she babbled on about how she thought she'd never be able to rent it, since it had already been on the market for almost four months and there'd been no takers. She had only dealt with the owner's mother, and it was a bit mysterious about where the actual owner was.  
  
A couple of weeks later, all the paperwork was done and Harry had moved in to his new home. He wondered if he would have the opportunity later to actually buy the cottage, as something in it just called to him. He hadn't felt this content since Michael died. He hated to admit it, but Hermione had been right that getting out of Grimmauld Place was a good thing. He felt lighter, and more able to deal with the grief that had been suffocating him for almost a year.  
  
He was sitting on his new sofa, watching one of his favorite films on the new DVD player he'd bought and realized that he had made it through the entire movie without thinking of Michael. That had to be considered a victory, didn't it?  
  
"Excuse me, but who the hell are you?"  
  
Harry jumped off the couch, his wand in his hand automatically. Standing before him was a gorgeous blond who looked extremely irritated.  
  
"I think I should be the one asking that question," Harry said. He didn't see a wand or any other type of weapon in the man's possession, but that still didn't explain how he'd gotten past Harry's wards into his house.  
  
"You are the one trespassing, and I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave the premises immediately," the man said with a haughty tone.  
  
"How can I be trespassing in my own home?" Harry asked.  
  
"This is my house!" the man sputtered, and then his eyes narrowed as he eyed the room. "And what have you done with all my beautiful furniture? Why have you replaced it with this rubbish?" he sneered as he gestured at Harry's sofa.  
  
"Who are you?" Harry asked, dumbfounded at the stranger's temerity, and just a little insulted at the slight to his decorating skills.  
  
"My name is Draco Malfoy and I am telling you for the last time to remove yourself from my property."  
  
"I don't know anyone named Draco Malfoy, and I think you're a bit confused. I've been living here for two weeks and this place was empty for months before that."  
  
"I can't believe your gall! You break into my house and then spin such outrageous lies? That's it, I am calling the proper authorities. They'll remove you and yes, I will be suing you for any damages they find to my home." The man spun around and marched towards the kitchen.  
  
Harry was frozen in shock for a second and then he realized a stranger was now traipsing unchecked through his home. "Hey!" he shouted as he dashed after the intruder. He skidded to a halt in the empty kitchen. "What the hell?"  
  
He spun around, mystified as to where the man could have disappeared to. He had anti-Apparition wards up, although they hadn't seemed to work to keep the man out in the first place. Harry spent several minutes searching the entire house, but there was no one to be found. He wondered if perhaps he'd dreamed the whole thing.  
  
Still a bit dazed, Harry went and sat back down on the sofa. His gaze kept darting around the room suspiciously, as he half-expected the man to show up again any moment, but he didn't.  
  
At least, not that night.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
It was time to call in outside help, Harry realized about three weeks later. The man who called himself Draco Malfoy had shown up a dozen more times. Each time he appeared, he would berate Harry and tell him to get out of his house. Harry kept trying to explain that he was not the intruder, but it seemed to go in one ear and out the other. Inevitably, Draco would state he was calling the authorities, and move towards the kitchen.  
  
No matter how he tried, Harry never actually saw him disappear; he would just have vanished by the time Harry made it into the kitchen from wherever he was. After the first couple of times, Harry was relatively certain that Draco was a ghost, and that he must have lived in this house at some point.  
  
That idea did not go over well with Draco when Harry tried to explain his theory. He was highly insulted and took to mocking Harry and waking him up in the middle of the night, all to try and annoy him enough to get him to leave what Draco still considered his house.  
  
The only person he knew who wouldn’t either laugh at him, or run the story to the  _Daily Prophet_ , other than Hermione and he couldn’t ask her for more after how much she'd helped him already, was Luna Lovegood.  
  
Luna had always been a bit of an odd duck anyway, not that Harry loved her any the less for it, so this was right up her alley. In his experience, most ghosts knew they were ghosts. Draco didn't seem to realize that he'd passed on, and if Harry could help his spirit find peace, then that was for the good. Plus, if it helped Harry get some peace around his own house, that was a bonus.  
  
"Oh, my, Harry what a lovely home. No Blibbering Humdingers, but I see you still have some issues with Wrackspurts."  
  
"Er, yeah, but my main problem right now is a ghost who doesn't know he's a ghost."  
  
"Hmm, yes I see where that could be troubling for him," Luna murmured as she glanced around the living room.  
  
After several minutes passed with Luna not saying anything, Harry shoved his hands in his pockets self-consciously and found the courage to ask, "So, do we do a séance, or something?"  
  
"Oh, nothing so dramatic, I don't think. Besides, that must be Draco standing right behind you, so no need to summon him," Luna said with a dreamy smile.  
  
Harry yelped and jerked around to see Draco glaring at him with his arms crossed. He was even tapping his foot.  
  
"And now you're bringing your girlfriend into my home? Have you no shame?"  
  
"Luna's not my girlfriend. She's here to help you."  
  
"I certainly don't need any assistance from the likes of her!"  
  
What followed was one of the strangest hours of Harry's life, and he'd hunted Horcruxes, so that was saying something. Draco at first refused to even acknowledge Luna's presence in the house, but she kept nagging at him until he eventually broke down and responded to her. And what a conversation it was. Harry found himself mesmerized by how different and yet alike these two brilliant minds were.  
  
Draco was an apprentice Potions Master and had grown up in France, where his mother had fled after the end of the first Wizarding war in 1981. Luna was sort of a jack-of-all-trades as she did whatever struck her fancy for the time being. She'd been a writer, an artist, a street performer, a cursebreaker, a chef, an apprentice broom maker, and for a while, she'd even attended Auror training. Right now, she was sort of in between trades, which is why she'd had time to help Harry out.  
  
Both of them had lost a parent young, and had been considered outsiders where they grew up. They talked so fast that sometimes Harry could barely keep up. They might have kept the conversation going for another several hours, but Harry made the mistake of asking Draco how he'd died.  
  
"I'm not a ghost!" Draco shouted and stood up from the chair he'd been perched in. "I'm as real as you, and you are still in my house! Why won't you go away!?"  
  
And with that, his body flickered like a telly being turned on and off, and then he disappeared.  
  
Harry looked sheepishly at Luna, but she simply smiled kindly at him.  
  
"I think what the problem is, is that both you and Draco are right," she said.  
  
"How can we both be right?"  
  
"He is something like a ghost right now, but I don't think he's really dead. His spirit feels different than other ghosts."  
  
Harry blinked, trying to process what Luna had just said. Nope, it still wasn't making any sense. "I still don't see how he can be both."  
  
Luna sighed and patted his hand sympathetically. "That's because you have narrow vision. You only see things that are straight in front of you. Sometimes you have to widen your eyes, so that you're seeing what's on the periphery of your sight."  
  
"Okay," Harry said slowly. "So, Draco isn't dead, but maybe he's what? In a coma somewhere or something? But how is he showing up here as a ghost, or well, a not-ghost, I suppose."  
  
"Very good peripheral thinking, Harry!" Luna said, as she clapped her hands in delight. "Now why do you think that he would be showing up here?"  
  
Harry scratched the back of his neck, oddly feeling like he was back at Hogwarts in Charms class. Professor Flitwick had been just as enthusiastic about encouraging his students to find the answers to his questions.  
  
"Well, he says he used to live here. Maybe he's even the current owner, I guess. I'd have to check with Lavender. So he feels a connection to this house."  
  
"Yes, very good. That sounds about right," Luna nodded.  
  
"But that still doesn't tell us how this is happening. I mean, this is unusual, even for Wizards, isn't it? I've never heard of anything like this happening before. The only time I've ever heard of an out-of-body experience was when I was seeing things that Voldemort was doing, but neither of us was in a coma."  
  
Luna gathered her things and granted him a beatific smile. "Maybe that's something that you and Draco need to figure out together."  
  
After she was gone, Harry sat and thought about what she'd said for a long while. Maybe the next time Draco showed up, Harry would just try talking to him before the blond could get started on the harangue about getting out of his house.  
  
The next time Draco showed up, Harry started talking quickly, before the yelling could begin.  
  
"Hey, listen! We learned a lot about each other yesterday. Don't you think we might try being friends?"  
  
Draco eyed him warily, but kept quiet, so Harry continued.  
  
"Your house is wonderful. I mean, I really love the kitchen. I think it's my favorite room."  
  
"It is quite lovely, isn't it? I had the counters brought in from Italy," Draco began and they spent the next hour having a very pleasant conversation about the house.  
  
The next day, they talked about Quidditch, and who their favorite teams were, as well as what positions they played themselves. It continued on like that for a couple of weeks, and Harry realized he'd never enjoyed talking to another person quite this much.  
  
The couple of times that Harry had tried to gently introduce the idea that Draco was a ghost had not gone over well, so Harry stopped trying, although he didn't stop worrying about it. It couldn't be a good thing, that Draco was stuck here, not even knowing he was a ghost.  
  
One day, they had such a vigorous debate about the best broom for Quidditch, it had dragged into the wee hours of the morning. Draco tended to show up in the evenings anyway, and they could sometimes talk until the sun came up. Harry eventually begged off, and gave in when Draco insisted that he'd won, simply because he needed to sleep. He wasn't sure if Draco needed to sleep at all.  
  
The next day, Harry stumbled into the kitchen, having slept until about one in the afternoon, and started his tea. He wasn't quite fully awake as his sleep had been fitful due to thinking about Draco's situation and what he could do about it. It took a few minutes to get his cuppa just the way he liked it, but once he did, Harry turned around and leaned against the counter as he curled both hands around his mug and took his first sip.  
  
The mug shattered when it hit the floor as it fell from suddenly limp hands. The calendar hung haphazardly on his wall seemed to mock him as Harry realized the date. September 17th. One year exactly since Michael had died. How had he been so distracted that he'd let the day sneak up on him unprepared? Not that he was sure what he could have done to ready himself for the first anniversary of a devastating loss; he hadn't handled any of his other first anniversaries very well.  
  
He stepped over the mess on the floor and went straight to his cabinet to pull out some alcohol. One thing he knew for certain was that he couldn't get through this day sober.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Draco found himself in his kitchen and frowned as he looked around for Harry. He still really didn't understand what was going on here, and why it was that Harry was living in his house now, but he had grown to like their talks, so he had decided to let it go.  
  
He heard a muffled sound coming from the living room and decided to investigate. It was probably Harry, but what if it was a different intruder? Not that Draco was sure what he would do if it was a violent intruder, as he seemed to have misplaced his wand, another attribute that was very unlike him.  
  
As he peered around the corner, all Draco could see was the back of a head full of unruly black hair. Certainly looked like Potter, but what on earth was he doing? As Draco watched, Potter's shoulders began to shake. Was he laughing? But there was no movie playing on that telly thing, so what could he be laughing at?  
  
Draco inched into the room, curious now to find out what was going on with his squatter. He moved slowly around the end of the couch and was astonished to find a bottle of liquor in Potter's hand. He lifted it to his mouth and took a healthy swig, and when he lowered his arm back down, Draco realized that he wasn't laughing. He was crying.  
  
"What's all this about then?" Draco asked gently. Or at least he attempted to be gentle. It wasn't really in his nature.  
  
Harry raised his head and looked up at Draco, and it was only then that he could see the man held a picture in his hands. It showed Potter and another man grinning widely into the camera, their heads so close together, they were touching. It looked like a Wizarding photo, but it was motionless.  
  
Harry's face was all blotchy and red, his eyes were puffy, and tears were running down his cheeks. He looked absolutely pathetic, and somewhere deep inside Draco, there might have been a twinge of sympathy.  
  
"This is Michael. He's dead," he said.  
  
"I'm sorry for your loss. Was he your brother or your friend?" Draco was treading on unknown territory here, as he'd never had anyone close to him die. Well, other than his father, and Draco didn't really remember him.  
  
"He was my boyfriend," Harry said with a sigh as he dropped his gaze back to the photograph. "Do you want to know how he died?"  
  
"Er…" Draco said, not really certain that he wanted to get into what was obviously very emotional territory for Potter.  
  
Harry continued on as though he hadn't noticed Draco's hesitation.  
  
"He was always joking around, pretending to bump into people or trip over his own feet. One day, he really did trip, and he hit his head when he fell. When he didn't get right back up, people thought he was kidding around again, so they were standing around laughing while he lay there dying. By the time they realized he wasn't playing around and got him to hospital, it was too late. There was nothing they could do because he was already gone."  
  
Draco sat down beside Potter on the sofa and looked down at the vibrant looking man in the photo. "That's truly awful. I'm really sorry," he said quietly.  
  
"He worked for the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry. It's how we met; he was refereeing a charity Quidditch match I was playing in and we just instantly hit it off."  
  
Draco just made an acknowledging hum at this point, as it seemed that Potter simply wanted to talk. He let the man ramble on for a bit, and for the first time in a long while, didn't feel impatient with someone else's problems. Instead, he felt genuine sympathy for Potter's pain. It was obvious that he'd loved Michael very much and missed him terribly.  
  
Draco felt the stirrings of jealousy in his gut. The odd thing is, he wasn't sure if he was jealous of the fact that Harry had known such a wonderful love, or if he might just possibly by a tiny bit attracted to Harry.  
  
Wait, what? No, where had that thought come from?! Desperate to distract himself, and keep Potter from somehow knowing the insane thought that had just passed through his mind, Draco asked, "Why isn't the picture moving?"  
  
"I removed the charms on it. It just…hurt too much to see him moving there when I know he's gone."  
  
Instinctively, Draco lifted his hand to give Potter a commiserating pat on the back…and then gasped when his hand passed right through Potter's body. Draco then did the next logical thing. He screamed bloody murder.  
  
Harry leapt off the sofa and instantly, his wand was in his hand, and his eyes were darting around the room as if looking for potential threats. "What is it!?"  
  
"I can't touch you! My hand. My hand went right through you!" Draco shouted as he stared at his hand. "Oh, dear Merlin, I'm a ghost! I'm dead!"  
  
"Calm down!" Harry said. He tucked his wand up into his sleeve and moved forward as though he were going to grip Draco by the shoulders. He seemed to realize at the last minute that he wasn't going to be able to do that, and awkwardly dropped them back to his sides.  
  
"Calm down," he said again. "Luna said that she didn't think you were dead. She said that you might be in a coma somewhere."  
  
Draco managed to calm his hysteria slightly. "Why would she think that?"  
  
"Something about how your spirit felt different. I don't know, Luna's always been a little strange. But she's not usually wrong."  
  
"How am I going to find out?" Draco asked, and inwardly flinched at how pitiful he sounded. At least Potter didn't seem to notice.  
  
"Well, I'll help you, of course. What happened to you?"  
  
"I don't recall anything happening to me. The last thing I remember for certain is working on my potions presentation for my interview for Senior Potions Apprentice at St. Mungo's," Draco said. He frowned as a disturbing thought occurred to him. "Damn, there's no telling how long I've been indisposed. That means Veronica Smethly probably got the position by default. That bitch!"  
  
A small chuckle escaped Potter, causing them both to pause in surprise. Draco felt a little zing of warmth in his belly that he'd made Harry smile despite his sadness earlier.  
  
Draco and Harry stared at each other for a moment, and something settled between them, any previous animosities simply fading away. Then the look went on a bit too long and became awkward, causing Potter to cough and look away.  
  
"Well, if you had some sort of accident, then I'm sure you were admitted to St. Mungo's. How about tomorrow, we go over there and see what we can find out?" Harry said.  
  
"Okay, yeah, that sounds good. Tomorrow then."  
  
"Tomorrow," Harry said again. That awkward staring thing almost started to happen once more, but then Potter turned and said, "Um, I'm pretty tired so I'm going to turn in."  
  
"All right. I'll see you tomorrow morning."  
  
"Yeah, tomorrow."  
  
With one last look over his shoulder as he exited the room, Harry went down the hall to his bedroom. Draco wasn't sure what all that was about, but he knew he could barely wait until the next day.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Are you always this grumpy?"  
  
Harry briefly closed his eyes and prayed for patience. He took a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching to see him seemingly talking to himself. "I am when someone wakes me up at five in the morning," he muttered, trying to talk without moving his mouth too much.  
  
"No sense in wasting the day," Draco replied and his voice was so disgustingly chirpy that Harry wished he had the capability of hitting him.  
  
He decided it would be better not to answer and risk upsetting Draco. He'd quickly discovered that the man could be a bit stroppy when he was mad. Harry walked up to the attendant at the information desk.  
  
"Hello, I was wondering if it would be possible for me to visit Draco Malfoy, please."  
  
"Harry, what are you doing? That's never going to work! They probably only allow family, and you-"  
  
"Oh, my! Harry Potter! My stars, it's such an honor to actually meet you in person!" the Welcome Witch babbled as she flapped her hands in excitement.  
  
Harry felt a teensy spike of satisfaction at the stunned expression on Draco's face, even though only he could see it, so he couldn't respond. After a few more minutes of enduring the Witch's fawning, Harry was strolling towards the lifts to go to the Fourth Floor and the Janus Thickey Ward. Draco was moving along beside him, pouting about how easy it had been for Harry to get in to see him. The hospital had confirmed that Draco was there, and the Witch at the information desk had even told him a little of what had happened.  
  
Harry was appalled to find out that someone had attacked Draco in the hallways of St. Mungo's simply because his long-dead father had been a Death Eater. Sometimes, Harry thought it seemed as though the war wasn't truly over, and perhaps it never would be.  
  
Glancing at the door numbers as he walked down the hallway, Harry paused when he came to Room 417. He took a peek inside and hesitated when he saw a beautiful older woman standing next to the single bed in the room. The room wasn't decorated like what Harry thought a hospital room would be. It was light and airy and had more the feel of a country cottage. Almost like Draco's actual house, Harry realized.  
  
The woman standing in the room bore a close enough resemblance to Draco, that Harry knew she had to be his mother. Draco hadn't seen her yet, as he'd become distracted by a patient in the adjoining room who was drawing rainbows all over her walls with crayons.  
  
He was just considering turning around and making good his escape, when the woman turned her head and saw him lingering in the doorway. Even the frown of confusion on her face was attractive, and Harry wondered if it was a family trait.  
  
"Harry Potter?" the woman said.  
  
"Erm, yes, I'm Harry Potter." Suddenly Draco was right beside him in the doorway, staring with a stricken expression at his mother.  
  
"Mum," he whispered, and the absolute despair in his voice ripped Harry's heart out. He quickly turned to Harry and said, "Don't tell her about me. I don't want her to know that I'm here but that she can't see me."  
  
"Mr. Potter? Can I help you?"  
  
"I, um, I heard about what happened to Draco from some friends of mine and I felt terrible about it. I, ah, just wanted to come and check on him." As cover stories went, it wasn't Harry's best effort, but he never had been very good at thinking up excuses quickly.  
  
"Oh. Well, that's very kind of you. Please do come in."  
  
"I don't want to bother you," Harry tried to demur.  
  
"It's no bother," Draco's mother insisted, as she waved him into the room.  
  
Harry stepped into the room slowly, and came to a stop beside Mrs. Malfoy. He glanced down at the figure on the bed, and blinked in surprise at how still and quiet Draco's body seemed. His spirit couldn't hold still for two minutes. Unthinkingly, he reached out and touched Draco's hand with his own. For some reason, he'd expected Draco's skin to be cool, but it was warm, and Harry could even feel the pulse of Draco's heart at the base of his thumb.  
  
"Do you and my son know each other, Mr. Potter?"  
  
"We've met," Harry said, and dragged his gaze back to Mrs. Malfoy. He realized he was still touching Draco's hand, which had not gone unnoticed by his mother, and casually dropped his arm to his side.  
  
"The hospital wants to discontinue his life support, as it's been nearly six months and there's been no change," Mrs. Malfoy said. The sadness in her eyes would haunt Harry's dreams for weeks.  
  
"That's not right. We can't let them do that," Harry said.  
  
"Too right! I'm not dead! What's with those people, trying to shuffle me off this mortal coil before my time?" Draco said angrily.  
  
Harry had to focus hard not to turn and look at him while Mrs. Malfoy was watching.  
  
"I promise you, I will not let that happen," Harry said, his voice deepening with determination, and he hoped that Draco realized he was speaking to both of them, even if he couldn't acknowledge it.  
  
Mrs. Malfoy gave him a shrewd look, one that made Harry feel she was taking his measure as a man and a Wizard. She gave him a small smile and nodded, and Harry felt ridiculously pleased that he seemed to have passed muster.  
  
"I believe you, Mr. Potter."  
  
"Please, call me Harry."  
  
"Very well, and you must call me Narcissa. I have the feeling that we may be seeing quite a bit of each other in the future."  
  
She and Harry chatted for a few more minutes about banal things before Narcissa took her leave. Before she left, she gave Harry the Floo address to her home in France and invited Harry to visit her at his convenience.  
  
After she was gone, Harry glanced over at Draco, who was staring down at his own body on the bed with a mixture of horror and fascination.  
  
"Is that really what my hair looks like?" he asked, almost to himself.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "You're so vain."  
  
"Oh, I know what the problem is. They obviously don't have access to my special shampoo. I brew it myself, you know, and it's a blend specially created for my scalp."  
  
Before Draco could start telling him about the process, as Harry could tell by the look in his eye that Draco was considering, he asked, "Are you ready to go home?"  
  
As the words left his mouth and their possible meaning hit his brain, Harry blushed. Because, yes, it was Draco's house, and yeah, Harry lived there, but it wasn't like they were living together. It wasn't like they were a couple. Harry chose to ignore the fact that he might just be a little disappointed by that.  
  
"You can go. I’m going to stay here for a bit," Draco said.  
  
"Okay. I'll see you later, I guess," Harry said. Draco barely acknowledged him, still staring at his unconscious body as though morbidly mesmerized by it. Harry supposed he was the only one who felt the awkwardness of the moment. He shook his head as he walked down the hallway towards the lifts, amazed that his life had taken such a strange and twisting turn.  
  
He realized he hadn't thought about Michael in several hours now, and astonishingly, he didn't feel guilty about it. As much as he'd loved Michael, he was gone, and that part of Harry's life was over. Maybe, just maybe, there might be a chance for something new with Draco. Harry found himself a little bit happy about that prospect, and that was something he hadn't felt for a long time. First, of course, they needed to fix Draco's 'in a coma' problem. And anytime Harry had a problem, there was only one person he turned to.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
"I'm sorry, let me make sure I've got this right. You're seeing the ghost of Draco Malfoy in your house and you went to St. Mungo's and met his mother today?" Hermione asked, her brow wrinkling in confusion. It wasn't nearly as cute on her as it was on Draco, Harry thought, but knew better than to say so.  
  
"Yes, well, sort of. It's not his ghost, as that would mean he's dead, but he's not. He's still alive and sort of in a coma. It's more like his spirit. I think."  
  
"And now you want me to research to find a way to counteract whatever spell he's suffering from?"  
  
"Well, I'd help you, of course," Harry said. He didn't want her to think he expected her to do all the work.  
  
She glared at him and Harry remembered what had happened the last time he'd attempted to help her research. She had thrown him out of her library after only thirty minutes.  
  
"Well, I could be your gofer then. And I'll go get you whatever you need from wherever you need it."  
  
"Harry," Hermione said carefully, and he recognized the tone that meant a delicately worded 'You're doing something that concerns me and I'm worried about you' lecture was to follow. "Are you certain you're not getting in over your head here? What if this Draco, if he truly is real-"  
  
"Of course he's real!"  
  
"Right, right, I believe you," Hermione said, her tone placating. "But what if he doesn't feel the same way that you do and you're setting yourself up for another heartbreak?"  
  
Harry really didn't feel as though that were the case. There was something about Draco that called to him, and he was certain that Draco felt it, too. They were connected somehow. Why else would Harry be the only one that was able to see Draco? Well, Luna was able to see him, but Luna had always seen things that most other people didn't. There had to be a deeper meaning behind it.  
  
After wrangling an agreement to look into the possibilities from Hermione, Harry headed home. Funny how Draco's house already felt far more like home than Grimmauld Place ever had. He'd only been there a couple of hours when Draco popped back in. And he literally did that…suddenly appearing in the living room right in front of the sofa, causing Harry to possibly shriek like a little girl.  
  
"What's wrong with you?" Draco asked.  
  
"Nothing," Harry said as he willed his heartbeat back to a normal rhythm. "Where have you been?"  
  
"I was checking out the situation at St. Mungo's. Smethly did get the promotion, damn it all! I have more talent and potions skills in my big toe than she has in her entire body!"  
  
At this point, Draco started in on a rant about everything that was wrong with Veronica Smethly, how amazing he himself was as a Potions Master, and what he would have done with the promotion had he not been cut down in his prime by a lunatic in the hospital hallway.  
  
Harry's breath was taken away as he watched and listened to Draco talk, and it hit him that Hermione's warning might have been too late. He was becoming increasingly smitten with Draco Malfoy.  
  
"You are so beautiful," Harry said without thinking.  
  
Draco paused in his speech and looked at Harry in surprise. "What did you say?"  
  
"Nothing?" Harry said, his eyes wide.  
  
"No, you said that I'm beautiful."  
  
Harry cleared his throat, which suddenly had a lump in it. "So what if I did? It's the truth." And there was that Gryffindor bravado that showed up at the most inopportune moments.  
  
"Harry…" Draco said, and Harry did not like the sound of that tone in his voice.  
  
"I think I might be a little bit in love with you, Draco."  
  
"Well, that is entirely unacceptable."  
  
Harry's mouth dropped open in hurt and disbelief. "That was rather harsh."  
  
"It was meant to be. You're not in love with me, you're trying to get over a broken heart by indulging in a fairytale." Draco crossed his arms over his chest, and stared down at Harry emotionlessly.  
  
"That's not fair, and it's not even true! I loved Michael, but I realize it's time for me to move on. I was thinking that I might want to move on to you," Harry said as he stood and faced Draco head on.  
  
"I'm not going to be anyone's rebound. You don't even know me! You have no idea who I am as a person, you're just infatuated with the idea of rescuing me."  
  
"I know you! I've gotten to know you over the last month and I like you, a lot, and I want to get to know you even better once we get you back to normal." Harry's fists clenched at his sides and he wondered how he could be so attracted to and angry at one person at the same time.  
  
"That is never going to happen, Harry. I appreciate you attempting to help me, but if you're doing it for the wrong reasons, then no thanks. I can figure this out on my own." With that, Draco did his vanishing act, leaving Harry gaping in astonishment at his gall.  
  
He wasn't just hurt by Draco's dismissal of his feelings, he was angry! Harry had tried to be honest with Draco about what he was feeling and it was infuriating that his words had been tossed back in his face, apparently without a second thought.  
  
Harry was so incensed, he just wanted to throw things. No, what he really needed was to get out of this house and just not think about Draco for a while. The bastard! Defiantly, he called Ron and asked him if he wanted to go get a drink. His best mate was glad for the opportunity to get away from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes for a while and gladly agreed to meet Harry at their favorite pub.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Draco sat in the hospital room staring moodily at his body. Why did this have to happen to him now, right when he was about to see all his plans come to fruition? He'd been on the verge of proving his mother wrong, that it had been the right decision to move back to England, when he'd been blindsided by a crazy person with a grudge against his father, for Merlin's sake. It was so unfair!  
  
And okay, maybe he had been a little bit lonely. He was very focused on his work, so it wasn't like he had time for friends, or romance, or much of anything outside his lab. So perhaps, for half a second, he might have been a little bit thrilled about Harry stating that he found him beautiful, and that he was interested. But if there was one thing Draco was familiar with, it was reality.  
  
He didn't live in any fantasy world where true love blossomed and people lived happily ever after. First of all, being gay in the Wizarding World wasn't an easy thing, not when the entire society was so centered on continuing the family line. His mother accepted him as he was, of course. She didn't care anything about continuing the Malfoy name, that was certain. The younger Wizarding community was growing more accepting, but many of the older Wizards were very set in their ways, and Wizards lived a very long time.  
  
Draco was like any other person though, and sometimes wished he could find that perfect 'one', but it couldn’t be Harry Potter. So what if Draco might just be the teensiest little bit already in love with him, too? Was it not just yesterday that Potter had been mourning the loss of his perfect mate? Suppose Draco gave in and agreed to trying something between them, and Harry realized what he'd felt wasn't real after all? Draco didn't think he'd be able to bear that.  
  
All of this wasn't even considering the fact they still had to figure out how to get his spirit back into his body where it belonged. Though, somehow, that was the least of Draco's concerns. He was familiar with the story of the Boy Who Lived, and what Wizard wasn't? It had taken him a few encounters to recognize who Potter was, but eventually he had. So, he had faith that Harry would figure it out somehow; it was just the sort of thing he did.  
  
"Didn't think going around professing to be in love with near-perfect strangers was the sort of thing he did, though," he mumbled.  
  
"Oh, you and Harry aren't strangers, Draco."  
  
He yelped in surprise and leapt up to see Luna Lovegood smiling at him from the doorway.  
  
"You know what they say about people who talk to themselves, don't you, Draco? Although in your case, I guess it's all right, since you really are talking to yourself." She glanced over at his prone body with a thoughtful look. "Though you don't really seem inclined to answer yourself, do you?"  
  
"What are you doing here, Luna?"  
  
Her expression sobered as she looked back at the conscious version of him. "Harry's about to do something very dangerous."  
  
"How could you possibly know that? And what did you mean about Harry and I not being strangers? We barely know one another." He ignored that twinge of conscience that said he and Harry were far more than just strangers.  
  
"I see things sometimes. It's like I told Harry, you have to use your peripheral vision and you can see so much more. As for you and Harry being strangers, well, you know that's not the truth. Your soul and Harry's know each other. They've been waiting a long time for the two of you to meet again."  
  
That was far too mind-blowing for Draco to even consider at the moment, so he changed the subject, not at all desperately, no. Really. "What is Potter doing to get himself in trouble?"  
  
Luna smiled knowingly at his evasion, but let him get away with it. "Harry's at a bar imbibing copious amounts of alcohol."  
  
"Just getting pissed doesn't sound that dangerous, unless we're talking about his liver," Draco said with a derisive snort.  
  
"For most people, no, but there are always those who are looking to take advantage of any perceived weakness in the Boy Who Lived."  
  
Draco froze as the implications of her words settled over him. "Damn."  
  
"Yes," Luna said as she nodded solemnly.  
  
That was how Draco found himself peeking into a pub called The Golden Lion a little bit later. Sure enough, there was Harry at the bar. He didn't seem to be in any immediate danger, and he was alone. Although, as Draco looked closer, there were a couple of guys eyeing him speculatively and they looked decidedly seedy. Hopefully, he could get Harry out of there quickly before any trouble started.  
  
He moved up beside Harry and whispered into his ear. "Okay, Harry, I think it's time for you to go home now."  
  
Harry was so drunk, he barely startled, but he did turn to stare blearily at Draco. "Oh, it's you."  
  
"What was that, sir?" the bartender asked.  
  
"I'm no' talkin' to you. I'm talkin' ta him," Harry replied as he jabbed a wavering finger in Draco's face.  
  
Unfortunately, the bartender couldn't see Draco, so he gave Harry a pitying look. "I think you've about had enough, Mr. Potter. Maybe it's time for you to head on home?"  
  
"What? No, I'm just gettin' started!" Harry protested. "I jus' wish Ron was still here, 'stead of this jerk." He glared at Draco.  
  
"Yes, well, whoever Ron is, he certainly shouldn't have left you alone in this state. So come along, and let's go home like the good, sensible people that we are," Draco said, choosing to ignore the insult.  
  
"Hah! Shows what you know. I wash…was still moshtly sober when Ron left. He hadda go home cause he's got a wife and babies. I don' have them things so I said I wanted ta stay longer."  
  
"You're being ridiculous now. You are so far into your cups, you're already going to regret it severely in the morning, so we need to go now," Draco said insistently. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted the two unsavory looking fellows getting up from their table and heading towards the bar. Draco's sense of urgency in getting Harry out of this situation increased, but he wasn't panicking. Not yet, but it was becoming a close thing.  
  
"Here now, what's this? Our savior having a bit of trouble?" He poked Potter in the shoulder as he said this, and Harry turned to look at him in confusion.  
  
"Who're you?" he asked, and Draco cringed when it came out belligerently.  
  
"Oooh! Does the savior think he's too good for the likes of us? We're not fit company for the Boy Who Lived, is that it?" The second man moved to Harry's other side, effectively surrounding him and causing Draco to jump back in dismay.  
  
"Hey, boys, no rough stuff in my pub," the bartender warned, and Draco was grateful that someone could be the voice of reason. Then he added, "Take it outside."  
  
Draco gasped in outrage. This was the thanks that Harry got for saving their arses from a Dark Lord? Intimidation from a couple of thugs and indifference from the only one who could help? There was no one else in the bar! Who knew what these ruffians might do to Harry. Draco watched in horror as the hooligans each grabbed one of Harry's arms and lifted him off the barstool.  
  
"Hey, what? Where we goin'?" Harry said, as he looked from one goon to the other in surprise.  
  
"You'll see, Potter," Goon number one said with a sneer.  
  
Draco had to do something, and fast, if he was going to be able to save Harry. Instinct took over and he leapt forward, his spirit somehow merging with Harry's body until Draco was somehow possessing him. Harry gasped in shock as Draco dove in, and then it was almost like he became dormant and Draco was in control.  
  
 _Draco? What the hell!_  
  
Draco heard Harry's voice inside his…their…head, and replied quickly in the same manner.  _Just shut up. I'm trying to prevent your murder._  
  
Draco as Harry jerked backwards so abruptly that the goons lost their hold on him and he took a step back. He looked down his nose at the two offenders, and straightened to his full height. It would have been more impressive if Harry were taller, but he could work with what he had.  
  
"Thank you for your kind offer of assistance, gentlemen, but I think I can handle things myself from here." He poured every ounce of disdain into his words that he could, and though it sounded strange in Harry's voice, it did the trick long enough for him to step over to the Floo. The two buffoons just gaped at him in astonishment as he threw the Floo powder into the flames and called out "Dragon's Lair!"  
  
As they tumbled out of the Floo back at the cottage, Draco separated from Harry with a gasp. They turned to look at each other, both of them breathing hard and shaking from the experience they'd just shared.  
  
Draco noted that possession by a spirit seemed to be as effective as any sobering potion could hope to be. Harry was standing under his own power, and seemed much more himself.  
  
"I just saved your life. You're welcome," Draco said with a mocking bow.  
  
"Is the name of your cottage really Dragon's Lair?" Harry asked, the corner of his mouth twitching up as he tried to contain his laughter.  
  
"Really? That's the question you're going to go with?" Draco wasn't sure he wanted to look too deeply into the implications of having literally been inside Harry, and how intimate it had felt, but for Harry to brush it off simply to mock the name of his home was too much.  
  
He started to vanish, but Harry called his name.  
  
"Wait. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make light of what you did. I appreciate it and I know you got me out of what could have been a very bad situation. Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome," he said again, but softer this time. As they stared at each other, something changed, almost seemed to click into place, and Draco suddenly desperately wished that he could touch Harry. Judging by the expression on Harry's face, Draco thought he was wishing for the same thing.  
  
"You'd better get some rest, Harry. And I'd make sure you have some Hangover Potion available for in the morning, or you're going to regret a few of those drinks."  
  
"Right. I do have some, in the master bathroom," Harry said, with a vague gesture towards the bedroom area. "I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked hopefully.  
  
Draco couldn't help but smile. "Yes, I'll see you tomorrow, Harry."  
  
Harry nearly tripped as he turned to go, and they both chuckled. He waved to Draco clumsily and was grinning like an idiot before he finally managed to make it down the hall.  
  
Draco sighed and stared after him for a long moment. "Tomorrow can't come soon enough, Harry," he whispered. He looked down at his hands and cursed them for not being able to touch the man he…loved? Well, there was no use in denying it any longer. Draco Malfoy was in love with Harry Potter. He smiled ruefully, and then vanished.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Hermione showed up at Harry's house two days later with reams of notes on what she'd discovered about Draco's condition. She hesitated as she stepped into the living room and looked around carefully.  
  
"Is he here right now?"  
  
"No, he's over at St. Mungo's. He likes to hang out over there and come up with creative ways to ruin his rival's career."  
  
Hermione looked at him questioningly.  
  
Harry shook his head. "Never mind. It's too complicated to explain. And Draco explains it better anyway. So he can tell you the story himself once we get this all figured out," he said with a big grin.  
  
"It's not going to be that simple, Harry. I've looked at everything, and nothing I can find matches up to what's going on with Draco. Here, look," she said, and spread a pile of papers out over his coffee table.  
  
They spent the next two hours brainstorming, trying to decipher the mystery of Draco's spirit, and how they could get it joined back to his body. Most of that time was Hermione shooting down Harry's crazy ideas, but he was just so desperate to do something.  
  
She was just explaining to him the numerous reasons a gigantic slingshot would be a bad idea, when a Patronus that Harry had never seen before suddenly appeared in his living room. It was a beautiful swan, and it flew into the room and landed in front of them before stretching its neck gracefully.  
  
" _Harry, this is Narcissa Malfoy. You must come to St. Mungo's immediately. They are trying to end Draco's life support spells right now!_ "  
  
Harry didn't waste a moment in jumping to his feet, grabbing his wand, and Apparating straight to St. Mungo's. He heard Hermione calling his name, but didn't wait for her. Hopefully, she would follow him, as he'd probably need all the help he could get in not killing someone.  
  
He landed in the Ground Floor Lobby and rushed past the same Welcome Witch that had let him see Draco the first time. She squawked something at him, but Harry wasn't listening. When he burst into Draco's room, it was to see his mother standing guard, wand in hand, over her son's body, as several other people shouted at her and each other.  
  
"What is going on in here?" Harry roared and the room went silent instantly, all eyes going to him. Harry could see Draco's spirit in the corner, looking extremely frightened.  
  
"Harry Potter? You have no purpose here." Harry recognized the man who spoke as Henry Pellington. He was an official with the Ministry and virulently anti-Death Eater. Standing beside him, Harry also recognized Veronica Smethly from Draco's descriptions of her.  
  
Also in the room was a Mediwitch whom Harry didn't know, and Madeline Kirkwood, the Head Healer-in-Charge. Harry knew her from various charity functions he'd been to over the years and had always found her to be a fair and intelligent Witch.  
  
"Draco Malfoy is my friend and his mother just called me for assistance, so yes, I do have a purpose here," he said, as his grip tightened on his wand.  
  
"Harry, this woman," Narcissa gave a scathing glance at Veronica, "says that since Draco has shown no improvement for the last six months, they are required to remove all the life sustaining spells and charms on him."  
  
"Hospital policy states that-" Veronica began, her tone so self-important, Harry wanted to smack her just for that.  
  
"Hospital policy states that the case should be reviewed after six months, not that care is automatically withdrawn," Madeline spoke over Veronica, cutting her off.  
  
"The review has been done, and no improvement has occurred. This patient is taking up valuable hospital space and resources and his care should be terminated," Pellington insisted.  
  
"Why the hell are you even here, Pellington? You're not hospital staff," Harry asked.  
  
"Neither are you, Potter, but I am on the Board of Directors, and as such, I represent the interests of the hospital," Pellington said with a sneer.  
  
"So it's common practice for a Board member to get involved with individual cases?"  
  
"You are the interloper here, Potter, and I demand that you vacate the premises immediately, so that we can get on with hospital business," Veronica butted in.  
  
The glare Harry turned on her made the woman take an involuntary step back. Narcissa smiled smugly at the movement and winked at Harry.  
  
"No one will be removing any spells from Draco, not today, not ever," Harry said, his eyes flicking to Draco in the corner to make sure he understood that Harry would never allow anything to happen to him. Harry's magic crackled around him, and everyone in the room gasped at the display of power.  
  
"Mr. Potter, while I understand and share your outrage, you have no authority to make any decisions for Mr. Malfoy," Madeline said.  
  
"Harry is a family friend and I authorize him to make decisions regarding Draco's care," Narcissa said. A whisper of magic ran through the room as it made her words binding.  
  
"This is ridiculous! He's nothing but a Death Eater!" Pellington shouted.  
  
Harry marched over to Draco's side and pulled the sleeve of his left arm up. "Really? I don't see any Dark Mark there. Perhaps we need to check your arm?" Harry snarled. As Pellington blustered at the insult, Harry continued, "He wasn't even in the damn country when the war was going on. His father was the Death Eater, not Draco, and the man died when he was practically a baby!"  
  
"I think we all need to calm down and adjourn to a conference room where we can discuss this like adults-" Madeline said as she raised her hands in a placating gesture.  
  
"No, what I need to do is finish what should have been done six months ago," Veronica said, and before anyone could stop her, she pulled her wand and shouted " _Finite Incantatem!_ " at Draco's bed.  
  
Narcissa cried out and tackled the woman to the floor. Veronica, taken completely by surprise, shrieked like a banshee, but could do nothing to avoid Narcissa's fury. The Mediwitch and Madeline tried to pull Narcissa off the woman, but weren't having much luck. Pellington simply stood there gaping like a fish.  
  
"NO!" Harry shouted as he dove forward, cupping Draco's face with his hands. He looked up at Draco's spirit and let out a harsh cry when he saw that he was starting to fade away.  
  
"No, I can't lose you, not now!" Harry cried, tears blurring his vision.  
  
"Harry…" Draco said through his own tears. "I'm sorry, Harry."  
  
"Draco!" Harry yelled and reached a hand out towards Draco's spirit, wanting to hold him here somehow.  
  
"Tell my mum I love her, Harry," Draco whispered, and he was almost gone, so faded that Harry could barely see him. "And I love you, too."  
  
Harry yelled again, a wordless cry of rage, helplessness, and despair. Draco's spirit vanished completely and Harry dropped his head onto Draco's body's chest. In one last desperate move, Harry kissed Draco fiercely, hoping to somehow push some of his own life essence into Draco's body.  
  
By this time, the entire room had gone silent in shock, but Harry didn't care. His tears were dripping onto Draco's face, and when he ended the kiss, Harry carefully wiped them away. "I love you, too," he whispered, his voice hoarse with pain.  
  
And then Draco took a breath.  
  
Harry froze, staring down at him in disbelief. "Draco?" he said, not daring to hope, not yet.  
  
Draco made a sound as though he was waking from mere sleep, and then his eyes fluttered open.  
  
"Draco," Harry said, and the name was half-laugh, half-sob.  
  
Draco blinked several times as he looked up at Harry. "Who are you?"  
  
Harry's heart plummeted and he pulled away from Draco slowly. Draco looked around the room, his face a bit panicked, until he saw his mother. "Mum? What's going on?"  
  
"Draco, darling, you were hurt in an accident and you're a patient at St. Mungo's," Narcissa explained as she rushed forward to hug her son.  
  
Harry backed away from the mother-son reunion, his heart breaking into pieces. He turned to see the Mediwitch tending to a bruised and battered Veronica, and Madeline and Pellington staring at him. Madeline's eyes were full of pity, while Pellington's were simply disgusted. Harry ignored them all, knowing that he had to get out of here before he completely lost it.  
  
He looked at the door and was surprised to see Hermione there. He wondered how much she had seen, but when she simply said, "Oh, Harry," and gazed at him sadly, he knew she'd seen everything. Harry fell into her arms and let her squeeze him tight. She drew him away down the hall, and Harry let her.  
  
He couldn't think about any of this anymore today. Tomorrow would be soon enough for that.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
The next couple of weeks were terrible for Harry. He'd felt numb at first, but then after a day or so, the pain hit, and it hit hard. It was like the first few weeks after Michael's death all over again. The only thing that got him through, was the fact that Draco was alive. Yes, it hurt tremendously that Draco didn't remember a thing of the time that he'd spent with Harry, but at least he was alive and happy.  
  
Well, Harry assumed he was happy. He hadn't actually spoken to Draco at all since he'd awakened. He did find out from Narcissa that Draco had gotten the position of Senior Potions Apprentice that he'd so wanted, since Veronica Smethly had been arrested. It turned out she'd been so jealous of Draco and his success, that she had paid the man who'd attacked him to do so. Harry wished he'd taken the opportunity to smack her when he'd had the chance, but he supposed Narcissa had taken care of that.  
  
He smiled at the memory of Draco's mother beating the crap out of his nemesis. She'd been so enraged, she hadn't even thought to use her wand. Narcissa had urged Harry to try and talk with Draco, once she'd found out the whole story about Draco's spirit haunting his house. But Harry just couldn't take the risk of having Draco reject him again.  
  
Now he was back at Grimmauld Place, because of course Draco had moved back into his cottage when he'd gotten out of hospital. Harry sometimes thought he missed that cottage almost as much as he missed Draco. An insane thought started wandering through his head, that he needed to go back to the cottage and work on the gardens as he'd always intended to do. Somehow, he had never found the time to really work on the garden as he'd been inspired to do the first time he'd seen it.  
  
The more he tried to push the thought away, the more it persisted. Finally, three weeks after Draco had reawakened, Harry gave in and Apparated to the cottage. He knew from Narcissa that Draco worked long hours, so he didn't expect him to be there, and thankfully, he wasn't.  
  
Harry got to work in the garden with the supplies he'd stopped to pick up before coming. Slowly, over the next several days, the garden began to take shape, and Harry was proud of the work he'd done. He didn't go to the cottage on the weekend, as he wasn't sure if Draco worked weekends or not, but Harry didn't want to take the chance of running into him.  
  
It was Wednesday of the second week when he looked up from digging his fingers deep into the soil and saw a pair of feet on the pathway that wound around the yard. Sitting back on his heels, Harry looked up into Draco's calm face.  
  
"Hello," Draco said quietly.  
  
"Hi," Harry replied, as he slowly stood up. When Draco didn't say anything else, Harry felt the need to explain himself. "I'm sorry for intruding, but I just thought I'd help out with your garden. You work so much, you see, and I could tell that you had plans for it, and probably just not the time to carry those plans out."  
  
"It's okay, Harry," Draco said, and a quiet thrill went through him at Draco's use of his first name. "I've known you were here from the beginning. I do have wards set up, you know."  
  
"Oh, I, um, didn’t feel anything…"  
  
"You're still tied into the wards, as you lived here apparently, or so my mother tells me."  
  
"Right. I should have remembered that," Harry mumbled. "If it makes you uncomfortable, me being here, I can stop coming," he offered, although he really, really didn't want to stop.  
  
"No, it's fine. You're right that I don't have the time to work in the garden that I'd like." He glanced around at Harry's work. "You've done a lot. It looks really nice."  
  
"I enjoy it, working in the dirt with my hands, you know. It's soothing." Harry thought this stilted conversation as though they were strangers might be worse than never talking to Draco again.  
  
"Yes, I can see that," Draco nodded.  
  
The conversation paused for a long moment and Harry was pondering how to graciously make his exit when Draco spoke again.  
  
"I'm sorry that I don’t remember," he said quickly. "My mum told me a lot of it, about you helping me and how you were the only one who could see me. I'm sorry that I forgot it all."  
  
"It's all right," Harry said, even though it really wasn't, not at all. "Maybe we could be friends?" Harry would take crumbs at this point, even though he truly wanted the entire pie.  
  
Draco smiled and Harry's heart sped up. "I could always use a friend." He held his hand out towards Harry.  
  
Harry quickly wiped some of the dirt on his hands off on his trousers and reached out to clasp Draco's hand in his. To his shock, Draco gasped and swayed on his feet. Harry stepped forward and grabbed him by the shoulder to steady him.  
  
"Draco, are you okay?" he asked anxiously. He was still holding Draco's hand and he squeezed it; he was pleased and surprised when Draco squeezed back.  
  
Draco's eyes had fluttered closed for a moment, and when he opened them again, Harry was delighted to see a warmth in them that had not been there before.  
  
"You touched me, and it all came back," Draco whispered. "Oh, Harry, I remember everything. How could I have ever forgotten you?"  
  
Harry smiled in amazement, and before he could stop himself, he surged forward and kissed Draco. To his delight, Draco returned the kiss with enthusiasm. Harry didn't know how long they stood there in the beginnings of Draco's garden, kissing and talking and planning their future, but he knew there was no place he'd rather be.  
  
Miles away, in the back office of a shabby building that housed the  _Quibbler_ , Luna Lovegood grinned as she held a snow globe in her hands that showed two men kissing in a garden. She carefully set it back down on the table.  
  
"Brilliant."  
  
END

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